


Sidejob

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Ficlet, M/M, PWP, Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:12:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The missing scene from Khan in sickbay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sidejob

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Utterly useless piece for a Khan/Bones request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Sending away the redshirts was either a really great or a really, really terrible idea. 

If they were still here, if there were more time for Leonard to _think_ , if Khan had a normal voice instead of that sex-mouth like some twisted porn star, this probably wouldn’t be happening. Leonard has better control than this. Usually. ...Sometimes...

And other times he winds up being turned and slammed against his own examination table, hoisted up by the waist, thighs parted by thick, strong hands. Long fingers are working at his fly, slipping into his pants, and _damnit_ , he’s a _doctor_ , he’s too old for this shit—but all his protests die with the tongue in his mouth. Khan kisses better than an Orion, and Leonard’s had his fair share to know. 

That was when he was drunk. Off in some bar. Not in Starfleet. Not in fucking _space_ in the middle of a Klingon cold war with a prisoner he’s supposed to be experimenting on. That blood? That’s not normal. Nothing about Khan is normal. He’s a specimen more than worthy of Leonard’s attention, but that’s supposed to be in a scientific capacity. There’s nothing scientific about the way Khan’s fingers, slick with spit, probe between his cheeks. They don’t have time for this. Leonard tears his mouth away to argue, but there’s nothing to say. Khan purrs, “Shh, _doctor_... having fun?” Pretty bastard. 

He’s _so_ gorgeous. Those eyes, that mouth, that devilish tongue—broad shoulders and smooth muscles and the epitome of the human condition—what Leonard wouldn’t give to have this man strapped to a biobed and hooked up to a myriad of tubes. They could learn so much. Leonard could learn. Write half a dozen papers. Maybe save a hundred dozen lives. And fool around a bit in the process...

A blunt fingertip presses inside him and he hisses, breaking the kiss to growl, stop this, somehow: Khan’s using him and he damn well knows it. Wants Leonard on his side. A commanding officer, a tool against Jim, maybe, just one damn person on this madman agenda. …Or maybe he’s just got a weakness for handsome men, like someone else Leonard knows. 

Leonard lets himself be fingered only because Khan finds that spot right away that washes out the doubts, makes him groan and arch, arms tight around Khan’s back. He’s feeling every centimeter of Khan’s body, slipping beneath the thin black material and mouthing a long neck, throat, chin: anything he can get. Finally, someone else that knows the human body. Khan coaxes his asshole open, too dry and fast, but Leonard’s always likes it _rough_. He’s not even sure which of them started this, but he knows Khan will finish it. 

Khan lifts Leonard’s leg higher, rubs beneath him, stretches him wide and open—Leonard lets himself lean back against the table, ready for anything. If Jim finds out, he’ll never hear the end of it. Fuck it. Jim’s easy; he’d do the same damn thing. Bones might never get another shot at a body like this, a voice like that. Khan picks him up and lines up; Leonard’s eyes dart down to Khan’s open fly.

 _Fuck_ , that’s a big cock. Not gonna fit in him. Not right, anyway. Good. Leonard likes a burn. If Khan were any less well endowed, he wouldn’t be here. Khan pushes in without a word—Leonard tosses his head back and bites his lip not to scream. 

It hurts. Fucking _hurts_. Khan’s big, so big, wide and pushing in, no stopping, no mercy. Leonard doesn’t ask for mercy. He can take it. He’s a doctor; he can fix it. It’s too dry; spit’s not enough, not for this. Khan holds his ass, squeezing, holds his lower back and purrs in his ear, “You’re tight, very tight...” He bites at Leonard’s jaw; Leonard tilts his head to accommodate.

There’s no time to make love. They wouldn’t have, anyway. 

As soon as Khan’s in, he’s pulling out, and Leonard winces, it gets halfway and it’s shoving in; Leonard grits his teeth and _moans_. Khan hits the right spot: “ _Yes,_ right _there._ ” Khan smirks like he knows, does it again. _Pretty bastard._

Again and again, Khan fucks him over his own table, hard and relentless, in, out, in, out; Leonard doesn’t think he’s bleeding, but he’s close, stretched so wide and pounded into the thin padding over the metal. The blood’s roaring in his ears, breath laboured, sweat and sex in the air. He keeps expecting a comm to come through from the bridge—they’ll need Khan any minute—but it doesn’t happen, just more time to fuck. When else is Bones ever going to get to fuck a man like this? Jim seems to trust parts of him: good enough. No one’ll ever have to know. It’ll just look like they fought—mussed hair and wrinkled clothes, the smell of sex covered with over-sprayed sterilizer. Fuck, Khan’s _big_.

Leonard doesn’t expect to be touched—this is last-minute lust, not some romantic date—but still, Khan’s fingers wrap around his cock, and Leonard growls into Khan’s mouth. Khan jerks him hard, fast, skilled but insistent: no time to play around. Leonard takes it with bucking hips. _Yes, yes,_ more of that. When was the last time he had a mammoth cock like this? Probably never this big. Bought a Klingon-sized dildo once, never had quite the balls to try it. This is probably what it’s like. He’s going to have a hell of a time walking after this. He turns from Khan’s mouth and bites at Khan’s neck, wanting to leave some sort of mark right back. 

He comes first, of course—thinks he’s older, no, not technically, less stamina, getting his prostate stabbed and his cock stroked. It builds and his balls tighten, teeth gritting in Khan’s skin as he explodes in Khan’s hand, pleasure washing over. For a moment he’s wrecked: feels just _damn good: heaven._

Then he’s slumping, still getting fucked, and Khan takes a few painfully sore minutes to finish, slamming him into the table. With his head coming down, still buzzing, he can hear the table groaning with the force of Khan’s thrusts. He’s filled a moment later, soaking up a fresh load. If Khan’s stories are all true, Leonard probably should have used a condom. That’s what they did back then, right? If he gets some ancient STD out of this, it’s gonna be a nightmare. 

Khan kisses him and pulls out, hand sticky. Leonard grunts at the loss and kisses back, empty and still hungry. That _mouth_. He doesn’t want to give it up. He nods at a spare medical gown in the corner for Khan to wipe his hand on. 

Zip up their pants. Erase the evidence. Leonard squirts a generic sterilizer all over the table and into the air, shattering the scent and the mood. Khan watches him through the falling particles, drawling smoothly, “Do you want to call your security back?”

No, Leonard wants to tie Khan up and fuck him into a whole new millennia, but they can’t all get what they want. He looks at the beast of a man who started all this, terrifying and too _hot_ to resist. Leonard feels vaguely dirty, but that’s nothing new. 

He grumbles, “Shut up and get back on the table.”

There’s a dead tribble on his desk he can mess around with instead; at least it won’t give him the overwhelming urge to whip his dick out. He heads to it and sits down, regretting that immediately. 

He grabs a pile of folded medical gowns to sit on, not looking to see if Khan’s smirking. 

Sending away the redshirts... mostly a good idea.


End file.
